


don't be so shy (play with me)

by blackkat



Series: Star Wars Smut [7]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, PWP, Rough Sex, Size Kink, Strength Kink, Switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:40:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26686036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: “Come on,harder,” Alpha says, hooking his heel behind a thick thigh and jerking. “Fuck me like youmean it.”
Relationships: Alpha-17/Feemor (Star Wars)
Series: Star Wars Smut [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1675714
Comments: 24
Kudos: 535





	don't be so shy (play with me)

“Come on, _harder_ ,” Alpha says, hooking his heel behind a thick thigh and jerking. “Fuck me like you _mean it_.”

Feemor groans, arms tight around Alpha’s ribs, but he shoves forward, hitches his hips up and sinks his cock deep, and Alpha groans. He wraps his legs around Feemor's waist, hauls him in—

Feemor gasps, thrusts faltering as his hands slip, and he has to brace himself on the bed, has to bury his face in Alpha’s chest. His dick is big, and nicely shaped, but if he’s not going to use it right, Alpha’s going to have to flip them around and take charge.

“Move it, Jedi,” he orders, and Feemor makes a low, gutted sound and starts moving again, strokes slow but deep. Alpha settles back against the pillows with a groan, closing his eyes at the wash of pleasure as Feemor bottoms out with each thrust, but it’s not quite enough. He’s not going _hard_ enough. Most of the time, this kind of slow fuck would be perfect, but—

They just murdered their way through a whole battalion of droids, and Feemor's robe got torn off. Alpha had to sit through a whole debriefing staring at his body, at the scars, at the bruise that _Alpha_ put on his throat before they entered the fight, and he’d walked out of that meeting with a hard-on that could have pounded nails and the need to either rail Feemor or get railed.

The latter doesn’t seem to be working out, but the former’s looking better every minute.

“Hey,” he says, and tightens his legs around Feemor's waist, holding him still. Feemor hisses, digging his fingers into Alpha’s chest, and gasps open-mouthed against his skin, and it’s _still_ so kriffing satisfying to turn this stupidly pretty Jedi into so much goo under Alpha’s hands.

“Hey,” Alpha says again, maybe needling him a bit, and clenches down on his cock until Feemor is whining against his chest, shivering, cock so hard in Alpha that he almost changes his mind. But—

He drops his legs, gets two handfuls of Feemor's ass, and squeezes. Pulls Feemor in just that much closer, then slides his fingers down, finding slick, stretched muscle where he pinned Feemor to the wall and ate him out before they got to the main course. Presses one in, and then says, “You don’t fuck me like I want, I'm going to demand the right to turn the tables. You don’t need to walk again today, right?”

“ _Alpha_ ,” Feemor gasps, a plaintive sound, and Alpha snickers.

He clenches down on Feemor's cock again, then kicks him in the thigh and says, “Pull out. Lost your chance to fuck me, now it’s my turn.”

Feemor's gasp is all desperate anticipation, and he pulls back. As soon as his cock drags free, Alpha grabs him by the thighs, hitches him up, and Feemor makes a sound that curls through Alpha’s blood like pure heat. Callused fingers scrabble at his shoulders, clench on his back as Feemor wraps his arms around his neck, and Alpha snorts. He knows _exactly_ what gets Feemor going, and the fact that Alpha is big and strong enough to manhandle him is at the very top of the list. He lets Feemor bury his face in his throat, then leans in, rubbing their cheeks together in a casually intimate gesture even as the head of his cock slides up Feemor's ass, smearing precome and lube.

“Like that?” he taunts, and presses three fingers into Feemor, sliding them deep. Teases his pinky around the edge as he slides them out, and says in Feemor's ear, “I think you need four, to get ready for my cock. Since I'm so _big_.”

“Alpha,” Feemor says, caught on a moan, and Alpha can feel his cock twitch. It makes him snort, amused, and he spreads his fingers wide, enjoying the way Feemor's body gives, how slick he is inside, and then adds a fourth finger as he thrusts in again. Feemor jerks, voice breaking high, but he rocks back on them, tries to get them deeper, and Alpha nips at the line of his throat and thinks of making him take a whole fist. Thinks of making him _ride_ Alpha’s fist until he comes, and groans.

“Shit,” he mutters, and pulls his hand away, chuckling at Feemor's sound of protest. “Stop whining, I'm getting there.”

“’m not _whining_ ,” Feemor says, voice rough. He’d had his mouth on Alpha’s cock right before the mission, and Alpha hadn’t ever picked up anyone who could deep-throat him before, but Feemor's making him realize he was missing out.

Thinking of him sitting through that whole briefing with Obi-Wan, voice scratchy and throat _used_ , makes Alpha’s dick throb. He gets his hands under Feemor's knees, then drops him on the mattress and shoves his legs open wide, then orders, “Lube.”

Feemor fumbles for it, spilling extra out over his fingers when he squeezes the tube too hard. He doesn’t even hesitate, just smears it over his fingers, then presses four of them into himself as his other hand goes to Alpha’s cock. It takes all of his self-control to hold back, to not thrust forward, but Alpha keeps himself still, watches Feemor open himself up for Alpha’s use. Nothing will ever by quite as satisfying as seeing this Jedi desperate for Alpha’s cock in particular, and Alpha’s going to do his best to keep Feemor just satisfied enough that he always comes back.

“Enough?” he asks, getting his hands under Feemor's hips and tilting them up, like he’s inspecting his work. Lifts him off the bed a little, too, just because he can. Just because it makes Feemor groan, and Alpha laughs, pressing forward. He hooks two fingers into Feemor's hole, like he’s pulling him open, and presses his cock there, watching Feemor shiver and moan.

“I'm going to kriffing _rail_ you,” he warns. “Every time you sit down for the next _week_ , you're going to feel like you’re still sitting on my cock.”

“Oh, _hells_ ,” Feemor gets out, closing his eyes. His blond hair is wild, tangled around his face, and he reaches for Alpha instinctively, blindly, urgently. Alpha lets him, lets Feemor grab onto his elbows, but refuses to be moved by it. That just makes Feemor's breath hitch, though, and he snorts.

“Tell me,” he says, merciless, and knocks Feemor's hand away when it looks like he’s reaching for his cock. “Yes or no.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Feemor says, somewhere between desperate and annoyed. “Alpha, _please_ —”

Alpha presses the head in, watches as Feemor's eyes go wide and his voice stutters to a halt. He moans, almost startled, and Alpha wants to laugh at him but Feemor is too kriffing _tight_ , hot and slick and like a vise around Alpha’s cock. Alpha doesn’t have any patience for slow little starting thrusts, though; he grabs Feemor's shoulders, hitches his hips up to knock his legs open wide, and buries himself to the hilt with one brutal thrust.

Feemor doesn’t even scream. His mouth falls open, and he wrenches, fingers sinking deep into the muscle of Alpha’s back, but he’s too winded for sound, and it makes Alpha so karking _smug_. He has to spend a second getting his own breath back, because he can feel all of Feemor's little shivers, all of his little hitching breaths, but once he’s in control again he deliberately pulls first one of Feemor's hands, then the other, off of his shoulders and pins them to the bed.

“Cute you think you get to hang on to anything,” he says gruffly, and Feemor closes his eyes, moaning. With a smirk, Alpha presses a teasing kiss to his slack mouth, then curls himself over Feemor and starts thrusting, long and slow at first. Feemor looks dazed, drunk on it as he tries to ride the thrusts, but Alpha doesn’t want that. He wants Feemor _wrecked_ , sore and gaping and full of him for _days,_ and he slams forward, draws back just enough for leverage, and sinks his cock so deep that Feemor _shouts_. He arches up, but Alpha fucks him with short, brutal jerks of his hips, never giving him time to so much as catch his breath.

“Kriff,” he manages, right into Feemor's ear, and feels the way he shudders, the cry he can't quite get out. “You like—ng—getting pinned?”

Feemor doesn’t answer, can't. He whimpers, pulling at Alpha’s grip on him, but Alpha knows what he wants. He grabs Feemor's arms, then pulls out, hauling Feemor over onto his stomach and covering his back. this time, when he shoves back in, he twists Feemor's arms up behind him, leans up on them, and lets Feemor feel Alpha’s full weight on him, the width of Alpha’s thighs spreading his own open.

“I can do pinned,” he gets out, and Feemor's moan is low and desperate and the sweetest thing Alpha’s ever heard.


End file.
